


Nobody Throws Hardison Off A Roof

by alyricaldreamer



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Gen, Hurt, Kidnapping, Post-Series, chileans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyricaldreamer/pseuds/alyricaldreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardison get's injured and kidnapped. This is not okay with Eliot. At All.<br/>Prompt for myfrecklesaregreen</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eres un hombre muerto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My prompt was this " I would love to read a fic about a seriously injured and in danger Hardison and a worried, furious Eliot. I mean furious as in wants-to-kill-everybody-to-save-Hardison-furious. Can be gen or Eliot/Hardison or OT3 and everyone else can be in there too. I just don't want anybody else to be hurt. Is that something you would write? Pretty please? ".
> 
> Tried to do it justice. I hope you all enjoy

Eliot flinched in response to the squelching in his ear. The gun shot had been loud and both he and Parker looked at each other in shock.

“Hardison?” Eliot yelled out, spinning around to scan the large crowd. The job had been risky from the start, any job with drug runners and gangsters always would, and he’d been hesitant to take it. It had been his two counterparts that had convinced him it was the right thing to do; that without it, their client would suffer irreparably. Their damn conscious had gotten them into trouble, again.

“Hardison?” The hitter noted the glistening of tears in Parker’s eyes as he yelled out again. “Imma kill him,” he muttered angrily to himself when there came no response. Parker was already pulling out her phone, her fingers hastily darting over the screen as she pulled up his earbud’s tracking data.

Eliot sidled in closer to see the screen. The green flashing dot was moving quickly across the screen, running away from them on a main road.

“Eliot?” Parker asked fearfully. The hitter softly grabbed her arm and began pulling her towards the car park. His phone buzzed as they weaved through the crowd; he answered immediately, too angry to even look at the screen.

“You have thirty seconds before I come over there and make you regret every goddam decision you’ve ever made,” came his abrupt greeting, as he pushed through a group of teenagers who hadn’t had the decency to move.

 _“You think you can try and play us?”_ The venomous voice was undeniably their marks. _“You think you can play us, and not suffer the consequences.”_

Eliot ignored the threat. “I’m going to give you two options,” Eliot growled. “Option one, you let my friend go right now and I’ll leave you alone.” Of course, he had no intention of doing that but one of the cardinal rules of warfare was never leave your enemy cornered for cornered people strike the worst and this certainly was war. “Option number two is you continue down the path you’re on and I will make sure you wish every day that I had sawed off your arms set you on fire. Now, what choice do you want to make?”

His answer came in the form of a shrill, quavering scream from the background; it echoed through the phone and through the earbuds. Hearing her partner cry out, Parker sprinted faster through the crowd.

“Eres un hombre muerto,” Eliot cursed at the Chilean, before violently hanging up the phone. “Imma kill ‘em,” he threatened again, following Parker as she leapt over a small barrier that separated them from the cars. “Take the van,” he directed at the thief. He tossed her the keys (not that she needed them) and she caught them with ease. She came to the driver’s side door and halted, surprised to see Eliot sprinting past her.

“What are you doing?” There was slight anger in his voice as she yelled out. Eliot didn’t reply as he skidded to a halt in front of a pristine, antique motorbike, the gravel of the car park crunching beneath his feet. He crouched down in front of it, fiddling for the electronics to jump start the vehicle. “Traffic’s slammed Parker, this is the biggest goddam festival of the year and it’s a freaking parking lot out there.” He pulled out the wires he was looking for and, after fiddling through them for a second, began to strip some. “Quickest way outta here’s on bike.”

“Well I’m coming with you!” she insisted, marching over with terrifying determination in her eyes. “Nuh, uh,” he replied as the engine roared to life. He wasted no time climbing on board and settling himself into the seat. “We need something mobile to move Hardison, Parker! We need the van!” His reply was aggressive but he knew the scenario and knew what was needed. Parker opened her mouth to protest, but Eliot would not allow it. Before the thief could say anything, he kicked up the sand and tore out of the lot, gravel spitting out behind him as he left.


	2. Nobody Hurts Hardison But Me

He glanced quickly down at his phone as he spun around a corner. Hardison’s dot had stopped moving five minutes a go and, just as the hitter’s anger was growing, he was drawing closer. It had been a while since Eliot had felt this furious. A while since the thought of killing didn’t bother him. There was a spattering of fear thrown in there as well, fear for his best friend; fear that he didn’t have before he started working with this little team. Both feelings in fact, if he remembered correctly, were emotions he hadn’t felt since Hardison had been trapped in the damn coffin three years earlier. Both then and now the sense of urgency had riled him and made him furious in the way that only that irritating hacker could.

He looked down at his phone once more, his own coordinates put him nearly on top of the hacker’s. He swerved the bike onto the footpath, leaping off in one swift motion and dumping it onto the ground. His current tunnel vision prevented him from caring in the slightest about any damage to the bike.

 He glanced around at the buildings surrounding him, ignoring the fearful stares of the passers-by. Once again, Eliot didn’t care about how he was coming off, about how terrifying he looked. Taking one last look at his phone to confirm the location, he burst through the door, driving all of his anger through his foot and into the door. The interior guards were clearly taken by surprise, taking a few precious seconds to register the intrusion and fumble for their weapons. Unlucky for them, Eliot was quicker. With both of his hands diving in the opposite direction, he twisted their guns out of their hands, unclicked the clip and fired the two chamber rounds into the floor; he had no time ( or patience) right now, for fumbling about on two weapons.

Recovering quickly from the initial shock of the gunfire, the guards lunged at him simultaneously. Eliot acted quickly, ducking backwards slightly just in time to miss the impact. As they rammed into each other, another shot rang out from upstairs, followed almost instantly by an exhausted scream. Now furious, Eliot gripped the scalps of the two guards tightly before he slammed their heads together.  Now unconscious, they toppled to the ground.

He wasted no time revelling in his small victory and bounded towards the stairs of the abandoned factory warehouse.  Taking three stairs at a time, he reached the top in seconds. The carnage he caused with the upstairs guards far exceeded the damage done downstairs, with one man toppling over the railings and falling to the floor, surely breaking both legs, and the other being left half-conscious in a pool of his own spew.

Oh yeah, he was really angry now, as, breathing heavily, he marched towards the room where he was certain they were holding Hardison. Bursting through the door, he was not met this time with guns or guards but rather their mark, in the middle of the room, holding a revolver, which would under any other circumstance, look comically large.

Eliot hung back near the door, his body completely tense and ready to strike as he calculated the situation. Hardison was sitting, handcuffed to a scuffed wooden chair, two red stains soaking through his clothes; one in his thigh, the other in his opposite shoulder. Looking up at his face, Eliot could see a mix of emotions; fear, excruciating pain and exhaustion from the blood loss were easily the most prominent.

“What did I say to you about consequences?” The Chilean spat, gripping Hardison’s chair and dragging it further back into the room. Eliot didn’t move, he just let his deadly eyes follow the man further back into the shadows.

“You hurt my friend,” Eliot said finally. “Nobody hurts Hardison but me.”

“Too late for that.” He smiled smugly as he cocked the gun. Hardison screwed up his face and shut his eyes tight with fear. Their mark smiled more as he slowly wrapped his finger around the trigger. He laughed as he pulled it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter will be up tomorrow =).


	3. You're Welcome

_Click._ The Chilean’s laugh quickly disappeared. The weapon hadn’t gone off so Eliot took this moment to strike.

He charged forward, letting out an aggressive, animal like growl as he slammed his arm into the Chilean’s chest, knocking him to the ground. The gun flew out of his hand, crashing into the far corner of the room. On the floor, their mark twisted onto his side, clearly winded from the force. Eliot stood above him, hovering menacingly. Their mark groaned as he rolled further onto all fours, then, in a sudden act of anger, twisted around and lunged at Eliot’s leg. Reacting quickly, Eliot thrust his leg upwards, his patella impacting almost immediately with the marks jaw. An unnerving crack echoed about the room as their mark groaned in pain; through the swelling the Chilean speak little else.

“Don’t mess with Chileans my ass,” Eliot growled. For good measure, he pounded his foot into the man’s ribs then, to stop him from groaning, he threw his fist into the ground, knocking him unconscious.

 _“Eliot, I’m outside,”_ he heard Parker exclaim over the radio. Her voice was wavering and he could hear her feet and fingers tapping nervously. “ _But we have a lot of cops en route.”_

“We’re on our way out,” grunted, hovering for a moment over the man. Watching him he sucked air slowly through his nose. His hypnotic state lasted less than a second; less than a second to draw himself out of that deathly state of mind he’d settled so easily back into. Then, in an instant, the state was gone and, shaking his head, he bolted over to Hardison.

“How ya doin’, man?” He asked, concern evident in his voice, as he knelt down beside the hacker’s chair.

“Hangin’ on, man, hanging on,” Hardison spluttered. Exhaustedly, he offered a smile to the hitter, lifting his hands slightly so as to direct Eliot’s attention to the chain’s attached to his wrist. Eliot’s focus was elsewhere, looking closely at the two bullet holes for any damage that would occur if he was moved.

“Good, that’s good,” Eliot muttered, turning his attention to the cuffs. He hated cuffs. Zip ties were easy to get out of, handcuffs on the other hand (unless you were Parker), were less accommodating. “Parker’s in the car outside, worried to death. You shouldda seen her man.” He continued to talk, distracting Hardison as he came to his feet and drove his foot into the arm of the chair. The wood splintered in two, allowing one end of the shiny cuff to slip out, freeing Hardison’s arm. The hacker shook out his arm as Eliot walked around to the other side; within seconds, Hardison was free. “How’s the pain?”

“Oh it feels like there are hot pokers being plunged into my body,” he began sarcastically as Eliot lifted the hacker’s uninjured arm over his shoulder. Hardison stumbled a little as he was dragged upward, before settling the least amount of weight on his good leg as he could. “All the while, my life supporting fluids are leaking uninterrupted from my body. “ Eliot rolled his eyes; the sarcasm and wit was a good sign. 

They fumbled slowly down the stairs as Parker hurried them along nervously in Eliot’s ear. After several curses from the hitter, a surprisingly little amount of complaining from Hardison, and as the siren’s loomed, they piled into the van.

“Go,” Eliot groaned tiredly, kicking the van’s sliding door shut with his foot. At the wheel, Parker hesitated, looking concernedly over her shoulder at her partner. Knowing however, that the police vans were only seconds away, she flicked the car into drive and tore off.

“Hey, Eliot,” Hardison stammered, catching his breath as the tires screeched. “How’d you know the gun wasn’t gonna fire?”

“Firing pin jammed,” he replied simply, fishing for the medical supplies in one of the cupboards.

“How could you-“

“It’s a very distinctive click.”

XXXXXX

Eliot stepped cautiously into the safe house, struggling with the handle and several bags of groceries, medical supplies and other nick-knacks. He walked through the living room towards the kitchen, glancing over at Parker and Hardison as he placed the paper bags down on the seemingly ancient, beige kitchen bench.

Parker, defying gravity, was curled up on the back of the couch, her right arm dangling down, barely scraping Hardison’s ribs. Her nose twitched as her the soft breaths of sleep slowly lowered and raise the strands of hair around her face. Below her, Hardison was lying comfortably on the couch. They’d removed the back cushions from the sofa to make it easier for him to rest his healing wounds.

Before they’d even arrived at the safe house, Eliot had begun to tend to the hacker’s injuries. They weren’t pleasant but the hitter had seen worse so, for him at least, the clean, stitches and dressing wasn’t difficult.  The most taxing task had been replacing the lost pints of blood. Parker, the only appropriate match for blood type, while eager to help the man she loved, had been hesitant to have Eliot stick a needle into her arm. Once at the safe house, and after some hand holding, she finally plucked up the courage. Hardison had received his transfusion and, exhausted, fallen asleep on the couch with Parker guarding him closely.

“Hey,” Hardison said dryly. The sound was almost inaudible. He cleared his throat, then tried again. “Hey.”

“Thought you were sleeping,” Eliot replied, stacking bottles and bottles of Gatorade on the counter.

“Woke up just before you got back.” He shifted to sit up. Eliot shot him a deadly look that scared the hacker more than the ordeal he’d just been through so, slowly, he settled himself back down.

“How are you doing?” Eliot asked. He folded up the last paper bag and made his way over to the living area.

“Fine, I think, definitely hurts less.”

“No.” The hitter sat down on the coffee table, resting his forearms on his knees. “How are you doing?”

Hardison looked down at his now twiddling thumbs. “Uh, yeah, I think I’m doing okay. Like not, Imma go back to work tomorrow okay, but an _okay, okay._ ”

“Good, and if you need to talk,” Eliot offered sincerely. On the couch, Parker shifted slightly, causing the two to glance up at her briefly as their conversation paused.

“Thanks man,” Hardison thanked, looking back to Eliot. The hacker’s reply was just as sincere. “And thank you, for, you know, getting me out back there. I, uh, really appreciate it.”

“Just doin’ my job man.” Eliot said lightly. He pushed himself off the table and walked back over to the kitchen.

“Yeah, but still.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eliot picked up a bottle of blue Gatorade and walked to the arm of the couch. “Just maintaining my stance that nobody throws you off a roof but me.”

“Ah ha,” Hardison gave a fake, mildly concerned chuckle as Eliot tossed him the bottle. He flinched as he caught it, screwing up his face in fear. “Dammit Eliot!”

“You’re welcome, Hardison.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the tardiness, life got in the way!  
> Hope you all enjoyed it.  
> Thanks again for the prompt, definitely a fun write.


End file.
